


The Eye of the Wind

by Cruel_Cupid



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Captain Seungcheol, Crossdressing, First Time, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sexual Tension, Smut, side verkwan - Freeform, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25383091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cruel_Cupid/pseuds/Cruel_Cupid
Summary: ‘My quartermaster tells me you’re worth your keep. That I shouldn’t throw you off my ship.’It’s a question; he’s waiting for Jeonghan to prove his loyalty. He expects him to beg.‘I’ve been cleaning your deck in the hot sun for almost a week, Captain. What more would you have me do?’Captain Choi’s lips part slightly in consideration of this indecent proposal.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 13
Kudos: 272





	The Eye of the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> "I'll just write a short pwp one shot"
> 
> The short pwp one shot in question:

The memory begins like this;

Jeonghan takes a ribbon in his small hands and runs a finger across its perfectly soft body. Its colour is powder blue, just like the walls of the bedroom. Once or twice he wraps it around his fingers, so tight that he almost stops the flow of blood, and then it’s plucked from his grasp. The ribbon trails out and Jeonghan is left with nothing.

His mother is pulling and winding and tying it around the tender, exposed flesh of a lady’s thigh. She’s a fine lady, Jeonghan knows this, and her blood isn’t the same as theirs. He can see a pale, luminous glow about her skin where it’s most intimate and soft, and Jeonghan understands that this is beauty. 

He does not have it. Neither does his mother.

The ribbon secures a pair of white stockings, their fabric so impossibly thin that Jeonghan knows he would tear it in a day if they belonged to him. But of course, they don’t; everything that Jeonghan loves cannot ever be his.

He cannot have his hair long and secured with silver hairpins. He cannot wear a dress like his sisters. And he cannot dance at balls like the ladies his mother dresses.

The woman holds out a hand – the motion is so sudden that Jeonghan lets out a little gasp of shock in his child’s voice – and he realises his palm is heavy with something dense and golden.

A ring.

Its empty shape is waiting to be filled with her. She won’t be complete until she slides her finger into it and watches the polished surface glint in the early morning light. It’s a cold day with a bare white sky but she won’t wear gloves – why would she when she has so many jewels that a princess would be jealous?

Jeonghan steps forward. And then he awakens from the dream.

It’s almost a shock to realise he’s no longer the small and timid boy he dreamt of; his hands are now just as long and slender as his mother’s employer’s had been. They could be beautiful, but instead they’re filthy and coarse. Jeonghan sits up and feels a lurch of sea beneath him – the very floor groans and readjusts itself like a living, breathing thing. Jeonghan had not thought a ship would be as temperamental as this. It has a will of its own and it doesn’t seem to like stowaways.

He’s in a storeroom at the very bottom of the ship, and without a candle of any kind, Jeonghan can’t make out what exactly he’s rooming with. When the breeze makes its way through a small gap above him, Jeonghan thinks he can smell loose, black tea leaves. Rum. Tobacco. And a very particular kind of scent that reminds him of the spices that merchants unloaded at the docks back home. 

He is hungry, but he doesn’t want to think about that. It’s only a matter of time until he’ll have to venture out from his hiding place and try to steal some scraps from the kitchen – a difficult enough task without the vague and ominous terror that permeates the entire ship from port to starboard.

This isn’t just any boat.

Jeonghan was drunk when he ran away from his old life – he can still taste the whiskey in the back of his throat – and he’d thought anything would be better than the fate he’d been dealt. He’d staggered out from the tavern, head spinning from dancing with handsome sailors and intoxicated soliders in red coats. The moon was a splintered crescent in the sky. The sea murmured its song of temptation. And Jeonghan looked up at the black sails before him with a smile on his face and something of a death wish in his heart. 

But the realities of living as a stowaway in the ship of the most infamous pirate on the seven seas are a lot less romantic than he’d thought they would be. Time is an endless wash of sea against hull and night and day have no distinction. There are rats that scurry back and forth in the darkness and Jeonghan has never been so desperate for a bath in all his life.

He wonders if he will die like this before the ship reaches port and he can sneak away, slipping into a new life with a new name. It’s only when he starts praying that he won’t end up a corpse in the bowels of a filthy, dangerous pirate ship that a patch of blinding light falls right on his body.

Wincing against the burning gold of daylight, Jeonghan throws a hand over his eyes. The sudden burst of sound and colour is too much for him; he’s being pulled out onto the deck and he doesn’t even scream.

‘I told you it wasn’t a rat.’

Jeonghan blinks until his eyes get accustomed to the glow of the sun. He sees feet and already knows it’s too late. The crew have found him – he’ll be thrown overboard before the day is out.

The legs belong to a yellow-haired boy with a serious expression. He’s panting from the effort of hauling Jeonghan up from the storeroom and there’s a sheen of sweat across his face. The sight of his delicate, handsome features is almost shocking – the boy is not at all what Jeonghan expected. He’d been told countless tales of the notorious ship the Calypso, and her crew of murderous pirates. This boy looks like he could’ve been a young lord in a different life. 

Jeonghan startles and crawls backwards when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

‘Easy! I’m not trying to harm you!’ 

The hand belongs to a brown-haired man with surprisingly gentle eyes. He kneels down next to Jeonghan and unwraps a piece of bread. 

‘Take it, you must be starving.’ Jeonghan cannot hold back; as he snatches the bread and devours it, the kind-eyed man introduces himself. ‘I’m Seokmin and this is Vernon. You’re on board a pirate ship – did you know that? It’s not safe.’

Jeonghan is far too busy eating to give Seokmin any answers, but the other boy isn’t deterred. ‘We can vouch for you with Captain Choi, but he doesn’t like outsiders onboard.’ 

‘I can’t meet your captain!’ Jeonghan blurts out, suddenly reminded of the real danger he’s in. Captain Choi had been a figure of particular fascination for the townspeople back home; Jeonghan knows the story well enough. The richest, most successful pirate captain ever to venture out at sea; five ships gutted and massacred; his own brother abducted and murdered in cold blood. 

His crew might have a charitable streak, but he most certainly won’t.

‘Look at him, Seok,’ Vernon says. ‘He’s terrified. We can’t let him meet the captain.’

‘Okay,’ Seokmin stands up and brushes off his hands. He looks grave but determined; a true, hardened sailor. ‘We’ll speak for him. But he better be ready to earn his keep.’

-

The Calypso, as it turns out, is a ship that runs on a neat and precise schedule. Like a finely tuned pocket watch that never loses so much as a second, the crew rise before dawn to begin a strict regime of nautical duties. Jeonghan had expected lawlessness, impromptu brawling and a surplus of rum. What he finds instead is a mop and a bucket and a whole deck for him to scrub clean.

It’s not such a terrible job, all things considered. Jeonghan’s brown hair has grown out long enough to shield the back of his neck from the sun’s oppressive rays; he has ale when he needs it and bread when it’s time to take a break. And sometimes, in a moment of quietness, he can venture down into the storeroom and get a properly look at the stolen goods he’d cohabited with. One of Jeonghan’s fondest pleasure, he raids the stolen chests of military ships and trunks belonging to Earls and Duchesses. Always his mother’s son, Jeonghan has not lost his propensity for lovely clothes and elegant jewellery. One day he finds a powder blue dress and dreams about it all afternoon; perhaps it might even fit him.

But the work is consuming, and all around him is sea; beautiful, terrible, ceaseless sea that moves in the eye of the wind. Jeonghan finds himself stopping every half an hour or so just to _look at it_. The ocean has always been near him in his little port town, but it’s a very different feeling being stuck in the middle of its huge expanse. Jeonghan really has disappeared – now he is nowhere. He is no one. 

As he cleans, he gets to meet more of the Calypso’s eccentric crew. 

Soonyoung is the first to make himself known; a spry blonde-haired boy that hardly ever wears shoes, Jeonghan is slightly in awe of his ability to climb the mast and reach the crow’s nest. There’s not much chance for small talk at such a dizzying height, but Soonyoung is friendly enough. Whenever his night duty is over, he makes a point of wishing Jeonghan good morning as he descends the mast.

And then there’s the quartermaster. Captain Choi’s second in command, Joshua is a mild-mannered deputy that runs the renegade ship with all the decorum of a naval commander. Jeonghan thinks of him as the man that does the dirty work; Captain Choi broods away unseen in the inner sanctum of the boat whilst Joshua enforces his rule with a hands-on approach. He watches Jeonghan from afar and approaches only once, to tell him that he’s missed a spot. 

Through all of this, Seokmin makes a habit of checking in on Jeonghan each evening before supper. In the deep blue hours of early twilight, they lean over the edge of the deck together and watch as the sun lowers her gaze. Jeonghan discovers that until he’d been discovered in the storage room, Seokmin was the newest crew member. They find some solidarity in their ineptitude – Jeonghan begins to think of him as a friend. 

He works like this for three days until Seokmin throws caution to the wind.

‘We don’t have to do this. I’ll just go back to my hammock.’ Jeonghan follows Seokmin down the narrow steps to the mess hall. Even as he begs his friend to stop, he knows he’s desperate for a proper meal. Hunger – deep, desperate hunger – is a new sensation for Jeonghan. It claws at him from within. It tempts him further towards the candlelight.

‘It’s time you joined us. You’ve cleaned the Calypso and taken care of her just as well as any of us have – you deserve a place at the table.’

_And the captain?_ Jeonghan wants to ask. _What will he do when he sees me?_

There’s no time for hesitation when the smell of meat and beer is pulling him deeper into the ship and through the open doorway. The dining room is panelled in wood and lit with thick white candles that drip their wax onto the tables. Conversations die down into a gentle hush as Jeonghan steps inside, but there’s no immediate reaction. With a sigh of relief, Jeonghan realises that the captain can’t possibly be there; for one thing, he’d surely find himself accosted by him, and besides, none of the crew members appear to be showing deference to a leader. 

‘Here we are!’ Jeonghan finds himself pushed down onto a stool by a strong pair of arms. A piping hot bowl of chicken stew is placed in front of him and he practically salivates at the sight of him. ‘A nice hearty meal for our stowaway! I was wondering when you’d come by my kitchen.’

‘Thank you, Mingyu,’ Seokmin smiles at the cook. For the second time in the space of days, Jeonghan finds himself unable to offer thanks – his mouth too full with a helping of food to utter a single word. 

Mingyu seems more pleased with the sight of Jeonghan stuffing himself than he would be with a verbal expression of gratitude. He slaps his back and laughs. ‘You’re right to enjoy it now – the meat and eggs will go rancid in a few weeks and you won’t like it much then!’

Jeonghan doesn’t think he’ll ever be ungrateful for a plate of warm food ever again – not after cohabiting with the rats on an empty stomach and then living on a diet of only bread. His tongue is sore from the heat of the stew and it’s difficult to taste precisely what’s in it, but that doesn’t stop Jeonghan from shovelling it into his mouth like a wild animal. 

It’s only when the bowl is completely empty that he gets the chance to look around him.

Seokmin is enjoying a jovial conversation with Soonyoung, Vernon and a man Jeonghan hasn’t seen before. His is not the only unfamiliar face, too; talking in hushed tones with Joshua is a handsome young man dressed in fine fabrics and a gold medallion. Jeonghan has an eye for beautiful things. It’s a skill you can only learn from handling them yourself – his hands recognise Indian cotton and Welsh wool on touch alone. Put a blindfold on him and he’ll price a pair of kidskin gloves. Even in the dim, orange glow of the flickering flames, Jeonghan can tell the stranger is dressed a little too well for a life of piracy. 

The two other crew members are more mysterious still. 

A very young-looking boy, ash on his face and dirt in his nails, sips at his beer in total silence. Very occasionally the well-dressed man turns to him and makes curious movements with his hands. Jeonghan is captivated by this strange form of communication – almost so much that he misses the man in the corner.

With his feet up on a stool and his feathered hat tilted over his face, the man seems to be sleeping at first. Jeonghan notices the soft, quiet movement of his hand as he strokes a black cat curled up on his lap. It seems curious to keep a cat at sea. Jeonghan wants to ask about it but finds himself drawn into a lively discussion.

‘How do you like her?’ Soonyoung asks. Jeonghan clears his throat.

‘Like who?’

‘Calypso, of course!’ The others laugh at his ignorance and Jeonghan blushes. 

‘I like the ship better when I’m not locked in the storeroom. It’s… cleaner, I suppose.’

Vernon, always more sincere than anyone else, leans closer to Jeonghan to pose a question. ‘Will you be staying? You can, if you’d like to. It’s better out here on the sea. You can live as you want to.’

Jeonghan laughs in disbelief – yes, his life has been better since he’d run away from the hell that awaited him back home, but was this life really worth the price? Worth murder and theft and an early grave?

Vernon’s companion raises his voice. ‘Laugh all you want, foolish boy. On this ship I can live with the man I love,’ he puts his hand on top of Vernon’s and gives it a quick squeeze. ‘Even if I have to treat all your wounds to do it.’ 

‘It’s true,’ Seokmin says. ‘Seungkwan is our surgeon. You wouldn’t believe the things he’s done to keep us alive—’

‘You mean to say that… the two of you are lovers?’ Jeonghan cannot fathom it. He’s lived all his life in a state of perpetual self-hatred, only to find that perhaps he wasn’t made wrong after all. It’s too much for his mind to take in.

Vernon nods.

‘You act like this is some paradise! That the lives you live are good and innocent – but all of you are at the mercy of your captain. The things he has done… surely you can’t be content to abide his tyranny?’

All while Jeonghan is speaking, the faces of his companions grow dark and troubled. Twice, Seokmin pats his arm in a feeble attempt to shut Jeonghan up. The whole room is silent except for the groan of timber as the ship rests on an uneasy tide. 

Until a voice comes from the back of the room.

‘So my ship isn’t quite the paradise you were hoping for, Yoon Jeonghan?’

Jeonghan turns his head. The room feels as though it’s spinning as he realises the captain had been present all along. He expects ugliness – he expects yellow teeth, a beard, an aged face. Instead, Captain Choi lifts his hat and Jeonghan feels himself gasp at the unexpected youth of the man beneath it. 

He stands up and the cat scampers off his lap, no more distinct than a passing shadow. On his way out of the room he pauses in front of Jeonghan, so close that he can see the surprisingly beautiful shape of his full lips. 

‘Very well. We’ll leave you in Tortuga, where I hope you’ll fare better.’ The captain leans forward and Jeonghan is struck with the smell of cinnamon and cloves. He prepares himself for an impact – to be hit or punched in retaliation – but instead Captain Choi pinches the candle flame between his forefinger and thumb.

He snuffs it out, leaving a trail of smoke as he slams the door.

-

The second meeting happens far sooner than Jeonghan would have liked. After the disaster of the previous night and the threat of being left in a lawless pirate settlement, Joshua offered to ease the tension and speak to the captain on his behalf. 

Jeonghan is grateful – but not so thankful when he learns that the captain wants to speak to him alone in his chambers. 

Joshua leads the way and offers some form of explanation that Jeonghan thinks he ought to have known sooner. 

‘You’ve upset him more than you know. Never speak ill of the captain whilst you’re fortunate enough to be granted free passage. He’s a good man – decent, at least – and neither he nor his crew will tolerate slander against him.’

At the door of the captain’s cabin, Joshua stops Jeonghan and looks him in the eye. ‘There are things you may have heard about Captain Choi. Rumours pertaining to—’ he looks carefully at the closed door, ‘—fratricide. It’s imperative that you understand these are false claims. _Never_ speak of them in the captain’s presence.’

The intensity of Joshua’s stare is enough to make Jeonghan nod heartily in agreement. There’s much he doesn’t understand about Captain Choi, but he’s willing to concede that he may not be as ruthless as the rumours suggest. 

When Joshua takes his leave, Jeonghan’s hand lingers against the wooden door. Courage almost faltering, he thinks about turning back. But what kind of life could he possibly have now? Without Captain Choi’s help and protection, he’s a dead man walking – so Jeonghan has no choice but to knock twice and step cautiously across the threshold.

The room is shockingly quiet and the captain doesn’t appear to be inside. For a moment he falters, wonders if this has been some kind of cruel trick, but then Jeonghan catches sight of another door at the back of the room. He fears it might be some kind of storage room for all his trophies of war – and Jeonghan turns away from it. He knows that if he’s going to make the best of this situation, he’ll need to shun fear and reject disgust. Jeonghan must destroy the parts of himself that strive to be good and honest. He thought he already had.

But he was wrong.

The cabin is peaceful and still; today the sea does not rage or convulse beneath them like a patient gripped in the throes of delirium. Everything is laid out, poised and waiting for the captain to return. His bed is neatly made with simple white linen; a beautiful painted map is unfolded on a desk; two crystal glasses and a bottle of port catch the glinting sunlight. All around Jeonghan is that same, warm smell of spices.

Cinnamon and clove.

The looking glass on the wall is polished and perfectly clear. Jeonghan tilts his head until a face appears in its rectangular frame – a face that must be his own. What he sees is long brown hair framing a face that’s a little gaunt but determined; he marvels at the way it reaches his shoulders and thinks, fleetingly, that it might look even better with a feather or an ornament. But these are dangerous thoughts. The kind of thoughts that get Jeonghan into trouble – or have him branded a degenerate. 

So he focuses his attention elsewhere. Jeonghan has always liked his mouth; it’s small but pretty. Delicate. Before he knows it, he’s thinking about a different pair of lips and imagining – against his better judgement – what it might feel like to kiss them.

Then, like an apparition appearing behind him, Jeonghan sees another face in the mirror. He gasps, spins around on his heels, and finds Captain Choi standing in the doorway. Without his coat and feathered hat, he seems more like a man and less like a murderous phantom. It feels as though Jeonghan is seeing him for the very first time. 

He likes what he sees.

The captain isn’t too tall, but he’s _burly_ and well-built. Jeonghan can’t stop himself from staring at the slight shagginess of his curly black hair, the strong shape of his nose, the way his collarbones and chest peek out from the loose white fabric of his undershirt. Either his breeches are tight, or his thighs are particularly muscular – Jeonghan doesn’t know which of these two options is more bearable.

‘Your shirt is untied…’ he says, half-heartedly covering his eyes.

‘I was washing myself,’ the captain waves away Jeonghan’s concern with a swipe of his hand. He dresses himself right in front of him, picking up his sword belt and fastening it around his waist.

Pausing his task, Captain Choi pulls out the stopper on the bottle of port and pours out two glasses. He slides one along the table towards Jeonghan.

‘A peace offering. Drink.’

And Jeonghan does; he feels the warmth of the liquor spread down his throat and comfort him with its strong, familiar taste. It seems like a chance for a fresh start. 

‘My quartermaster tells me you’re worth your keep. That I shouldn’t throw you off my ship as soon as we reach Tortuga.’

It’s a question; he’s waiting for Jeonghan to prove his loyalty. He expects him to beg. 

‘I’ve been cleaning your deck in the hot sun for almost a week, Captain. What more would you have me do?’

Captain Choi’s lips part slightly in consideration of this indecent proposal. With his eyebrows slightly raised, Jeonghan wonders what on earth he has in mind – but the captain falls back into seriousness as the moment passes. Surely Jeonghan must have imagined it. Surely no one would ever think of him in that way – and certainly not a man like Captain Choi. He probably has a woman waiting for him on every continent; lovers beautiful and delicate enough to compliment his muscular body and his handsome face—

‘You’re a stranger to me. I think it only natural that I should be cautious of you. So tell me,’ Captain Choi asks, taking another sip of his port, ‘who are you and why are you on my ship?’

It’s the question Jeonghan has been afraid of hearing ever since Vernon and Seokmin pulled him out of the storeroom – there seemed to be some sort of unspoken code that no one asked too many questions about anyone else. But the captain of a ship is somehow set apart from his crew. He must ask the difficult questions; make the hard decisions; take the fall and hang for the crimes of the many. 

Jeonghan thinks perhaps he deserves the truth.

‘I wanted to run away. I’m not like most men, you see.’ Jeonghan grabs his long hair and runs a hand through it. ‘I want my hair to be long like this, I want to wear gold rings and pearl necklaces. And most of all, I have no interest in marrying a woman— which is why I had to leave. The first morning I spent on the Calypso was supposed to be my wedding day.’

‘I see.’

Captain Choi does not react with disgust and horror as Jeonghan had anticipated. He almost wants to complain at his apparent disinterest, but then he thinks he notices a small betrayal of smugness on the captain’s face. It’s not reassuring, but it’s a far cry from the kind of reactions he’s used to back home.

But the encounter isn’t over quite yet. Captain Choi reaches down and pulls something out of the draw of his desk – Jeonghan is shocked by the sight of an impossibly sharp silver razor. He can’t decipher its meaning, as the captain pulls out the chair of his desk and sits. 

‘There’s soap by the mirror,’ he says looking Jeonghan dead in the eye. ‘Fetch it.’

Not wanting to cross a pirate captain armed with a sword and a shaving razor, he obeys. 

‘Now go through the door at the back of the room. You’ll find a small pail of water—’ Captain Choi sees the expression of mistrust on Jeonghan’s face and pauses. He seems afraid of other people’s fear; like a mirror unwillingly held up to his face, he flinches away from the darkness reflected in the eyes of others. ‘Do this for me, and I’ll give you safe passage to wherever you want to go. Think of it as… a show of loyalty.’

Jeonghan tries to think of it as something as simple and uncomplicated as a game of trust, but there’s an energy in the air that sets his heart racing. The musky smell of the soap, the heat of the cabin, the proximity of the captain’s body; Jeonghan has a hard time keeping his hand steady as he moves the blade towards the other man’s face. The handle is ivory and inlaid with the initials of a stranger – some fool unfortunate enough to cross paths with the crew of the Calypso. Jeonghan ever so gently moves the blade against the captain’s skin, and wonders about the fate of its previous owner. The edge is still sharp: the spoils of a recent victory, not yet dulled from months of regular use.

He hums to himself in frustration as his unsteady hand fails to shave off any of the captain’s stubble. He’s too far away. It’s inconvenient for Jeonghan to bend down; he knows he needs to be closer to get the job done quickly and efficiently.

When he pulls away, Captain Choi halfheartedly reaches out to bring him closer – but Jeonghan has something else in mind. Without thinking too much about the consequences, he sits down and straddles the Captain’s lap. They’re incredibly close – face to face, bodies touching intimately. Beneath Jeonghan, Captain Choi’s thighs are as soft and thick as he thought they would be. He shuffles a little closer and feels a friction against his crotch; Jeonghan almost gasps at it, but _no._ It’s only the captain’s belt buckle. It must be. 

Now Jeonghan is bold enough to place a hand on Captain Choi’s cheek and drag the blade firmly across the other side of his cheek. It’s wrong – _so wrong_ – but Jeonghan can’t help staring at Seuncheol’s mouth each time he leans in to shave him. They’re close enough to kiss. Close enough for Jeonghan to grind his hips against the captain’s thighs and against his crotch.

Jeonghan convinces himself he’s improper – wrong and unnatural for having such lewd thoughts – but just as he’s about to shave away the last patch of stubble, he feels Captain Choi’s hands grab his waist. Hard. Jeonghan’s sighs, lets his eyes flutter shut – and then the blade slips.

The razor clatters to the floor as a bead of red blood appears on the captain’s cheek. For a few seconds neither of them speak; it seems as though the moment is quickly slipping away from their grasp, like the smooth length of a ribbon pulled away from the palm of a hand. 

‘I’m sorry…’ Jeonghan says, moving his hand as though he might try and stop the bleeding before thinking better of it. ‘I should go.’

He doesn’t wait to find out if the captain has forgiven him; if he’s safe. Jeonghan knows deep down that he won’t be thrown overboard or abandoned in an unfamiliar, distant place. The door closes behind him as he still feels the touch of Captain Choi’s hands moving slowly down to his hips.

-

When the Calypso docks at Tortuga, Jeonghan disembarks with the knowledge that he won’t be abandoned there. Seokmin has spent an hour convincing him that he needn’t be afraid; the whole crew will keep an eye on him as they spend a merry evening drinking in a lawless, dangerous tavern filled with renegade pirates. Jeonghan would much rather stay aboard ship with Prospero – the crew member he’s most recently become acquainted with. They’d first met when the black cat was resting on the captain’s lap, but Jeonghan has taken to playing with him of late. Cats are, apparently, a symbol of luck aboard sea vessels and Jeonghan could use a little good fortune. 

Finding himself seated at a table in a tavern all aglow with yellow flickering candlelight, Jeonghan wishes he could’ve at least brought Prospero with him. It would be soothing to stroke his long, unkempt fur. Instead he has a cup of rum to keep him busy – and of course the uncomfortable but captivating sight of Captain Choi at the bar.

He’s making small talk with the tavern’s owner, but all around him are women; his reputation as the wealthiest, most infamous pirate captain alive precedes him. The other crew members are popular, too, but evidently offer a less exciting prospect than Captain Choi himself. As promised, they surround Jeonghan at the table and keep to themselves. 

After sipping at his rum again, Jeonghan feels a tug on his shirt sleeve; it’s Chan, the young boy he now knows is in charge of managing the canons. Just like before, he moves his hands in a swift, mesmerising way and waits for some kind of response. Frustrated at the communication barrier, he slaps his companion – the luxuriously dressed man Jeonghan now knows as Junhui.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he says, a little drunk. ‘Chan wants to know what happened when you went to the captain’s chambers. Actually, I wouldn’t mind hearing about that either.’

Not wanting to divulge the events of that encounter, Jeonghan instead asks; ‘how can he communicate with his hands like that?’

‘Chan’s ears have been damaged – a different captain had him helping to fire the guns when he was just eight years old. It’s taken its toll. Luckily, I’m an interpreter of the highest degree; name any language, I know it. Including the language of signs and symbols. Joshua and Captain Choi have learnt it too – for Chan’s sake.’

Junhui offers this explanation, all the while translating it for Chan with his hands. Jeonghan is amazed. In all his years, he’s never seen something quite like this; it’s a truly beautiful way of communicating. 

If he had more time with them, he’d learn it for himself.

‘Everything I thought I knew about piracy is wrong,’ Jeonghan says, unable to take his eyes off Captain Choi. He watches him shrug away from the roaming hands of a tavern girl. 

‘Not everything.’ Joshua, normally quiet in rowdy settings, decides to speak up. In the absence of the captain, he’s taken a seat at the head of the table. ‘You’ve done well to keep your wits about you; renegade ships like the Calypso have a very short lifespan. As do their crews. This is a job for cutthroats and thieves – not pretty boys like yourself.’

He blushes at Joshua’s sincerity. A sort of charged silence follows, and Jeonghan doesn’t miss the look on the quartermaster’s face as he eyes him up and down. 

‘But the captain… was I really wrong about him? Are all the stories and rumours false? You must trust him very much to take his word for it.’ Jeonghan’s heart is racing. The question is more important to him than the others could possibly know; he wants to understand, once and for all, who Captain Choi really is.

Vernon lets out a hearty, drunken laugh and the others smile cautiously – Jeonghan can’t stand being left in the dark.

‘How can you be so certain he hasn’t murdered his brother?’

‘Because his brother is sitting right here,’ Vernon places a hand on his chest and Jeonghan is stunned into silence. It defies logic and reason – it changes everything. ‘I’m his half-brother, to be exact. We share the same father and the same pain; only Seungcheol was able to escape the life we were born into. A few years later he came back for me.’ Vernon smiles fondly and a little sadly. ‘He was a changed man by then, in many ways…’

Seungkwan puts his arm around Vernon with such tenderness that Jeonghan can hardly believe his eyes – but no one in the tavern seems to notice or care.

‘Excuse me,’ he says, stepping away from the table. ‘I think I need another drink.’ Seokmin tries to stop him but his heart isn’t in it; the crew must know he has no money, but they’re kind enough to pretend the lie is believable. Jeonghan walks deeper into the tavern, through clouds of tobacco smoke and past other unlawful sailors. Not all of them are pirates, he imagines. Some might be privateers – state sanctioned career criminals – or smuggler gangs. He tries not to look at their faces or let his own be seen in a place like this; as much as he needs space he right now, he’s well aware of the risks. 

What will he do, now that he knows the truth about the captain? He’s not the monster Jeonghan thought he was, so surely there would be no harm in allowing himself to—

‘How much?’

Startled out of his thoughts, Jeonghan sees a man leaning against the wall in front of him. With an arm resting near Jeonghan’s shoulder, there’s no easy way of escaping. 

‘I’m sorry…?’

‘I said I want to know how much it’ll cost me to spend the night with you.’ As if assessing the merchandise, the stranger grabs Jeonghan’s face and inspects. Realisation comes suddenly, and Jeonghan tries to swat the hand away, but to no avail. 

‘I’m not for sale!’ Jeonghan is afraid now. At the very back of the tavern there are few people to hear his protests and even less that would actually care enough to intervene. He pushes the man back: the man grips tighter.

There’s a struggle as he kicks and slaps and does everything in his power to alleviate the stranger’s weight from where it pressed down on his body. 

‘Let me go, I’m with my crew! The Calypso – you don’t want to anger them!’

The man laughs at him. ‘A skinny little boy like you, on the Calypso? I’ve heard it all!’

Taking advantage of the man’s amusement, Jeonghan seizes the moment and knees him in the crotch. His grip loosens for the briefest second, and then tightens. More so than before. ‘You’re going to pay for that, _whore_.’ 

The man wraps his hand around Jeonghan’s neck, and he thinks this is it – this is the end. Some ruffian in the corner of a tavern will crush the breath from his body and he’ll die quietly.

He’ll die alone.

But almost as soon as the man begins choking him, he feels a release of pressure against his body. There’s a crash and flurry of shocked voice – some of them excited and cheerful. When Jeonghan opens his eyes he sees Captain Choi standing over the stranger as he tries to find his footing. A table has been knocked over; a decanter of wine is wrecked from the impact and lies in a pile of crystal shards; a fallen candle seeps out wax on the floor like it’s blood.

The force of the collision has snuffed out its light.

‘Get up.’ His voice is cold and even as he looks down at the injured stranger. A sharp piece of the broken bottle has embedded itself in his palm, and the man whimpers as he tries to pull it out. 

‘I said _get up_.’ The captain pulls him to his feet and the other tavern goers begin braying for a fight. ‘You attempted to assault and murder a member of my crew – you know what has to happen now.’

‘Captain Choi, I had no idea this boy was one of yours— really, truly! Please, please have mercy!’ He begs and pleads, all the while holding up his bloodied palms in supplication. ‘You can’t take my life for this – I haven’t killed him, I barely touched him!’

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ the captain says. Jeonghan sees that his hand is still on his sword, unwavering. ‘The code is clear: a life for a life.’ The man visibly sighs in relief, but Jeonghan can tell that this is far from over. ‘I’ll just have to take something else in recompense.’

It’s hard to watch. The man screams and cries with pure, unadulterated fear as the captain grabs his right hand – the hand that almost choked Jeonghan to death – and pulls the sleeves of his white shirt up. Nobody intervenes. Nobody asks for mercy.

Not even Jeonghan; even when the stranger gives him one last desperate look he doesn’t so much as blink. There’s no stopping this. Jeonghan is deciding his fate, right here and right now. In this very moment, he knows the course his life will take.

When the captain draws his sword, Jeonghan’s breath catches. It’s beautiful and impeccably clean. A startling silver. It comes down and severs the man’s hand so easily that Jeonghan can’t help but be a little amazed at it. Before he can see the blood streaming and pooling, he feels Seokmin and Vernon pull him away – out of the tavern and into the humid night. 

Under the stars of an unfamiliar place, Jeonghan begins his life anew.

-

The night doesn’t seem to end.

How can Jeonghan sleep with the sea dancing beneath him, whispering secrets on each sighing tide? He feels alive and he feels reckless – now that he’s decided to throw in his lot with the crew of the Calypso, Jeonghan doesn’t want to wait a single second longer.

He wants to be himself.

Sneaking past the other sleeping crew members, Jeonghan tiptoes onto the deck and steps down into the storeroom. It’s easy enough now that Soonyoung isn’t on watch duty. With the ship docked at Tortuga for the night, the Calypso is utterly quiet and more sparse than Jeonghan has ever seen it. 

He knows exactly what he’s doing; Jeonghan is skilled when it comes to stockings and stays. He’s a deft hand at tightening corsets and arranging skirts. Even in the absence of a lamp – with only the pale light of the moon to guide him – Jeonghan works quickly. When he finishes, he can’t get a look at his handiwork.

Each breath comes quickly, slightly strained from the tightness of the corset. He can just about make out the blue and white striped pattern of the dress: it’s beautiful. Just as he imagined it would be. 

When he hurries back up onto the deck, excitement making him careless, he almost falls back down into the storeroom. There’s a dark figure waiting for him – shrouded in shadow, Jeonghan at first takes it for a ghost. He’s heard stories of ghost ships haunted by murdered crewmates, and Jeonghan holds back a scream as he steps away from the intruder. 

A moment passes. Jeonghan’s eyes grow used to the darkness. 

He makes out a belt buckle and a scabbard – then a jacket with neat brass buttons. But it’s the deep, smooth voice that sends a chill down his spine. 

‘What are you doing with my merchandise?’

Jeonghan feels naked, exposed. He thought he’d done away with all his reserve, but Captain Choi has a knack for getting under Jeonghan’s skin. He’s crossed paths with the last person he wanted to meet tonight.

‘I’m wearing it,’ he says, attempting some defiance.

‘I can see that.’ The captain walks closer, eyeing him up and down. ‘But no one touches my hard-earned spoils – not until they’re fenced on the black market and I get my payment.’

He sounds angry, but Jeonghan can’t help wondering why the captain keeps getting closer. His hands are restless; they move from his belt to his jacket and almost reach out to caress the blue and white fabric of Jeonghan’s stolen dress. 

‘Take it off.’

‘What?’ Jeonghan’s voice is weak and breathy. He can hardly believe what he’s hearing – does the captain want him to undress right in front of him on the deck of the Calypso? Feeling emboldened by the lewd thought of taking his clothes off under the night sky, Jeonghan folds his arms and glares at Captain Choi in silence instead.

‘I _said_ take it off.’

‘If you want it so badly,’ Jeonghan steps forward until they’re almost touching, ‘do it yourself.’

Jeonghan’s feet are lifted off the floor; this time he actually does scream. Captain Choi has picked him up as if he weighed nothing at all – never mind the heavy layers of the dress and Jeonghan’s own body weight beneath it. Carrying him over his shoulder like a sack of flour, the captain takes him into the ship.

‘Unhand me! This is so undignified!’ Jeonghan tries to protest, but his heart isn’t in it. Captain Choi’s hand on his ass – keeping him steady – has set his heart racing. It’s the faintest of touches softened by the underskirts of the dress, but Jeonghan can still _feel_ it.

‘I’m sorry, princess. Am I being too rough for you? Would you prefer a gentleman to escort you to your cabin?’ The captain’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, but Jeonghan thinks he can hear a note of mirth there too. It sounds as if he’s smiling. ‘Besides, you told me to take it off myself and that’s what I intend to do.’

The full meaning of his words becomes clear when Jeonghan realises he’s been carried to the captain’s own quarters. The room looks different at night, but maybe that’s just because Jeonghan’s head feels dizzy and light – as though he’s had a tavern-full of ale. When the captain finally puts him down, Jeonghan finds himself surrounded by candlelight. The desk is just as cluttered as before with maps and strange instruments of navigation. Although now the captain’s sword is also resting on the surface; its blade already impeccably clean.

There’s not a speck of guilty blood on it.

His hands are on Jeonghan’s waist – the touch so light, so cautious. Captain Choi runs a finger along the bodice. ‘It suits you, this dress. It should’ve always been yours. In my experience, the worst sorts of people get the best things in life.’

With such a reverent tone, Jeonghan wonders if the captain might have lost his appetite for disrobing him. Perhaps severing a man’s hand from his arm isn’t much of an aphrodisiac—

But then the soft touch turns firm, and Captain Choi starts pulling off the bodice of the dress. Suddenly unable to remain passive any longer, Jeonghan loosens the skirt just as eagerly. The two parts of the dress come away simultaneously and the captain stares at his handiwork.

Jeonghan is left in his underclothes; a corset, a thin white chemise and stockings with ribbons to fasten them around his thighs. He can tell his hair is a little unkempt from the captain’s eagerness to undress him – Jeonghan must look like a wreck. 

So far everything between them has been pretence. An excuse. But when the captain pulls Jeonghan in and kisses him deeply, the barriers melt away into blissful nothingness. Their tongues collide in a way Jeonghan has never felt before and he can’t help but moan into the kiss. It makes him eager and desperate – needy enough to pull off the captain’s jacket and untie his white undershirt. 

Captain Choi has his hands in Jeonghan’s hair. He pulls as it.

Jeonghan has his hands under the captain’s shirt, feeling the shape of his toned body. 

Then Jeonghan gasps as he’s lifted off the floor once more; wrapping his legs around the other man’s waist, the two of them move towards the bed. They fall down on it, neither willing to stop what they’re doing long enough to land gently. Captain Choi manages to pull away for a second to take off his shirt and Jeonghan can’t help but bite his lip at the full sight of his body. Tanned from sailing under the sun and rippled with scars here and there, the captain is a sight to behold. 

Jeonghan can’t imagine what he’s done to deserve a man like this.

He takes the captain’s hand and brings it to his lips to kiss it. The gesture is surprisingly intimate, but the moment of tenderness doesn’t last for too long. Without thinking too much. Jeonghan opens his mouth and sucks on the other man’s fingers.

Captain Choi sighs, staring down at Jeonghan with his mouth full. In retaliation, he moves back and pulls up the skirt of Jeonghan’s chemise, wrapping a hand around his dick. The feeling is like nothing Jeonghan has ever experienced before; to be touched by someone else for the first time is overwhelming. He grabs onto the pillow and breathes heavily with each movement of the captain’s wrist. 

‘You look beautiful like this. I’ve wanted you in my bed since you first set foot in my cabin.’

‘And I’ve wanted you since we met in the dining hall—’ Jeonghan says between moans. ‘When you leant over me and pinched out the candle…’

He can’t take it in anymore; if Captain Choi continues to touch him like that, Jeonghan will reach his climax far too soon. Getting up off the bed on unsteady feet, Jeonghan watches confusion pass across the captain’s face. He looks momentarily hurt – but understanding dawns on him when Jeonghan kneels on the ground between his legs.

He unlaces the captain’s breeches and is instantly daunted. Jeonghan has never so much as held hands with another man before, let alone done a filthy thing like this.

‘Jeonghan, you don’t— _Ahh!’_

His mouth is filled with the captain’s cock and Jeonghan does his best to make him feel good, despite being inexperienced. As he takes it deeper and starts to set a steady rhythm for himself, Jeonghan worries that he must be doing something wrong; he’s so keen to please the other man that he can’t suck his dick in a neat and tidy manner. A small amount of drool slips down his chin and when he pulls away for air, a trail of it remains on the captain’s dick.

Embarrassed, he wipes up and wants to apologise – but the captain is panting and staring down at him like a man half-mad with lust. Jeonghan is pulled back up and this time placed on the other man’s lap. 

‘I want you now, Jeonghan. Will you let me have you?’ Captain Choi murmurs out the question between kisses as he tries and fails to unlace his corset. ‘Fuck!’ Too fired up to wait any longer he gives up on the corset entirely. Jeonghan doesn’t mind this much at all. With his breath slightly caught in his chest from the tightness of it, Jeonghan is somehow even more aroused.

‘Do it. Fuck me. I— I want you too,’ Jeonghan says in reply.

With the skirt of his chemise completely pulled up, Jeonghan is ready for whatever the captain can give him – but first his lover steps away and comes back with two items in hand. One of them is a small ceramic jug, the other a velvet case. Captain Choi opens the latter and lifts out a beautiful string of pearls.

‘I’ve kept these for a long time. You told me you wanted a necklace of pearls.’ He fastens it around his throat and Jeonghan feels their cold, round weight against his collarbones.

‘The jug?’ Jeonghan asks.

Captain Choi pours out its contents onto his fingers – oil of some kind – and Jeonghan finds he doesn’t need a verbal explanation. He feels a finger push through his entrance, slowly joined by another as the captain stretches him out. Jeonghan has done this to himself a few times and thinks he can easily handle what comes next.

But he’s wrong. When the captain finally enters him, Jeonghan is unable to supress a yell of pain. ‘Oh god,’ he gasps. 

‘I won’t move until the pain stops.’

True to his word, the captain remains as still as he can, despite the determination in his eyes. The sensation of being stretched subsides with each passing second, turning from pain to an unfamiliar kind of fullness. ‘Move—’ he says, voice tortured. ‘Fuck me. _Please.’_

The captain doesn’t need to be asked twice. When he starts fucking him in earnest, Jeonghan finds himself gripping the pillow again. He’s loud: he can’t help it. Jeonghan doesn’t even try to quiet his moans as his lover maintains a relentless rhythm.

‘Captain—’

‘No. Call me by my first name.’

_‘Seungcheol…’_

He speeds up and Jeonghan does his best to match the movement of his hips. Seungcheol’s left hand is on Jeonghan’s thigh, and he can feel the ribbon of his stocking slowly slipping loose. He’s such a mess – but he doesn’t care. All Jeonghan wants is to be ruined by Seungcheol. To be fucked so well he won’t be able to walk straight the next morning; until he can’t think of anything else but him.

Neither of them tries to make it last. They want each other too badly to slow down or ease up. Jeonghan is so close to reaching his orgasm; he pulls Seungcheol in for a deep kiss as he moans and bites his lower lip before leaning back against the pillow.

It’s too much for Seungcheol. He spills out inside Jeonghan, and the other isn’t too far behind him. When Jeonghan comes, he lets out one last desperate moan as he spoils the underskirt of his dress. Seungcheol pulls out and he tries not to think about what a mess his whole body must be – he doesn’t care much anyway.

The captain falls back on the bed and they lie there side by side, catching their breath. Jeonghan runs his hand across the string of pearls – they’re just as smooth and perfect as he’d always imagined they’d be. He thinks, as he looks to his left at Seungcheol’s beautiful sweat-sheened face, that he could get used to a life at sea. 

‘Five days from now we’ll reach a port. You can—’

Jeonghan doesn’t like the remorseful tone of Seungcheol’s voice. He thinks he sounds much better when he’s steady and confident, a true captain through and through. 

‘I’m keeping the dress.’

‘What?’ Seungcheol props himself up with his arm.

‘I’ll join your crew, but I’m keeping the dress. It’s the least you can do after tonight.’

The captain looks momentarily baffled – he’s so unused to being spoken to with insolence on his own ship – but in the steady glow of candlelight, he relents. A fond smile warms his face. 

‘Yes, sir. Your wish is my command.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this isn't actually the first time I've written a smut scene on a boat.
> 
> I needed to finish this little story so I can get back to my other fics and clear my head - I hope it was enjoyable nonetheless! I have an idea for sequel but who knows if that will ever happen.
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment or follow me on twitter [@cruel_cupidd](https://twitter.com/cruel_cupidd) :)


End file.
